Low Rising
by A Piece for Some Peace
Summary: Amestris has become dangerous, where to not wear red is a crime and alchemy is a sin. Ed and Al are missing or even, leaving Winry to find answers and crossing enemy lines in a conformist society. With the aid of a homunculus, she seeks truth.
1. Chapter 1

"They are enemies of the state." Spat the radio host. "Enemies of the state, callous enough to be referred to as "state alchemists", but by whom? I'll tell you. Other alchemists and fools who sympathize with their cause are to blame. They have been referred to as protectors of the people, but what are they protecting you from? That's right, other alchemists. Isn't it clear? An alchemy free society, abolishing this science, is what's good for the people. Some fools call this a conformist rhetoric, but I call it the truth and I-."

Finally, Winry twisted the knob to silence the radio. Now she knew what she was up against. Following the defeat of the man known simply as "Father", alchemy had since been banned in Amestris. Despite the work of many in the military and people who could perform alchemy, Father's attack on the country left many with doubts over the benefits versus the harm in alchemy. Eventually, an uprising overthrew the military, and great numbers of the alchemists who helped in Father's defeat died or went missing. Some of the sympathizers and a few spare state alchemists were handed down with life sentences. Men like Louis Armstrong and a couple of the men who had served under Roy Mustang were rotting away in dank cells.

"Mankind is capable of being merciful," the radio announcer had declared, "one would not know this based on the actions of alchemists, but our country's new leaders ordained a life sentence would be more fitting for the following individuals…"

The announcer carried on with the list of names, Winry recalled the mortification she had felt when she had recognized some of her friends' names declared. These were people who had helped Edward and Alphonse on their journey, not criminals or terrorists. Several months had passed since that announcement. As time passed, the actions of the new government progressed, and more and more Winry came to see the evils in the actions of the new regime. Up until now she had stood at the sidelines, reading headlines and following along with current events. Each day there were reported skirmishes between left over factions and the new controlling power. In the headlines she would read of mobs killing people in confusion. Those counted among the dead or missing were Edward and Alphonse, who were reportedly killed while trying to storm Central, but neither of their bodies had been recovered.

Stories differed on the exact cause of their death, and due to the way the story was rushed, it was clear little was known. Winry was positive there was more to the story than the articles had led on. Although she could not say for sure if they were truly alive, Winry had a feeling in her heart that Ed and Al were still out there. Hushed whispers and shared gossip only supported Winry's intuition when she would overhear quieted conversations in public places between strangers. Allegations of a forming resistance ran rampant. Rumors circulated that homunculi still ran among humans, and it was the plan of the alchemists to set them upon non-alchemists. Fear did not stay homebound however, as many worried the country of Xing to hold alchemist exiles, aiding them in their revenge. Nothing was for certain anymore in Winry's world, and she had to find answers. Leaving her shop in her grandmother's hands, Winry was on a temporary leave in Central.

"Here goes nothing." Winry sighed. Slipping into her red heels, Winry's look was complete. She shifted uncomfortably in the mirror, wearing all red made her feel like a clown… or a walking target. Normally she wore whatever was the most practical, but today was different. To go through Central in anything but red was not only an outrage these days, but a crime. According the new leaders of the country, it was to represent the blood of the people who had suffered under alchemy's crimes. More and more, Winry felt as if she had entered a horrific world of science fiction, but it was her life. Wearing a dress that was once white, but hastily dyed red, she was trying to blend in. Winry was preparing her award reception for her automail skills. She had other motives for coming to Central than receiving some cheap medal for "human innovation" versus alchemy, or what they now called genocide. A knock rapped on her door.

"They're calling you in for the ball," called a female voice, the hotel manager. Winry was staying in the building that once housed people of military and alchemic affiliation.

"Just a minute," Winry replied. Just an hour, she promised herself, just one hour of mingling with people of forgotten causes and mixed identities, and then she would find Ed and Al. That was her main purpose and objective. She had heard rumors, but when she received his pocket watch in the mail, she knew it in her heart to be true. The things she heard were mixed, but overall they all agreed on one point, a resistance was forming. Edward and Alphonse were a part of it, of that she was certain. Opening the door to her room, Winry made a show of smiling for the manager.

"An escort is waiting downstairs for you." The woman informed.

"Thank you," said Winry, with false warmth. Walking down the stairs, Winry considered her plan. Her expression fell when she came to realize there was no plan, just a motive. She knew she had to find someone, but asking around could be dangerous. Those associated with alchemy were imprisoned or given therapeutic shock treatments, neither sounding appealing. Holding the rail tightly for support in alien heels, Winry walked down the stairs of the building thinking of Riza Hawkeye. Perhaps if she could find Riza, Winry could stand a chance of finding the resistance.

"Hello Miss Rockbell," greeted her chauffer. He was holding the backseat door to a car open. She nodded out of social nicety.

"Good evening." She said. He took her hand and led her into the car. Keeping silent, the driver said nothing more. Sitting in the backseat, she stared out the window, watching as people in red walked under fluorescent lights that turned their outfits a hideous brown. Curfew was approaching, and the citizens were thinning out as they found their way home. Another positive point of the award reception was avoiding this ridiculous curfew nonsense. Portrayed as a way to protect the people, it was just a poor excuse for controlling them. It was not until the streets had almost completely cleared that Winry saw something that would ultimately fixate her destiny. A person, thin and strange, slinked from the shadowy depths of an alley. Winry felt her breath hitch as the stranger looked directly at her. He was wearing all black, and bore a strange tattoo on his thigh. In general, he was a very bizarre person, the likes of which Winry had never seen before. Face filled with anger, his expression only drew Winry in further. Soon, the man was out of sight, and Winry felt stupid for thinking he had been looking at her, there was no way he had seen her through the windows at the speed they were going.

"Curious." Mumbled Winry, resting her chin in her palm, elbow upon the car door.

"So you saw that man too?" asked the driver. He was looking at Winry through the rearview mirror. Choosing not to reply, Winry simply returned the stare through the mirror. Taking this as worry, the man comforted Winry. "Don't be bothered by him. I shall report him for not wearing red. He's probably just confused."

"Why would you say that?" Winry asked out of habit. She should have known better than to have asked at all.

The chauffer, looking at the road, answered back in offense, "He's either confused or insane. No one who supports slaughtering millions by not wearing red is all that right in the head."

"Oh, so you can judge this all by what the color they are wearing?" asked Winry, growing testy.

"Well yes," defended the man, looking back at Winry with suspicion, "red is the color of honor and solidarity. To not wear red is spitting in the face of all who died."

Drawing back, Winry knew she had said too much and was now under scrutiny. Quickly she replied with something to reaffirm his belief in her. "Perhaps with some therapy he could be helped? Human innovation can overcome alchemic ignorance."

The driver smiled enthusiastically, enjoying the all too familiar words of their leaders. Carrying on about how true these words were, the driver no longer posed a threat, so Winry pulled out of conversation.

"The world is a safer place now. I'm glad that our country is finally free, you know?" asked the driver in a spirited tone. Winry, looking out the window, made a face. The driver did not seem to notice.

"Yeah, I guess." She said at last, giving the driver free range to carry on with his optimism. A wave of bitterness overcame her, hating that she had to lie so often. She missed the days of alchemy, where Edward and Alphonse were alive, or at least be out in the open.

"Ah, we're here," announced the driver. The driver slowed as they reached what was once the military headquarters of the old regime, now a monument to invention and progress without alchemy. Opening her door, the driver escorted Winry up the stairs and into the building.

"Thank you." She said rather flatly, tipping her head in forced gratitude. The driver tipped his hat in reply.

"You're welcome, anything for someone as pretty as you." He said, making her blush. From outside she could hear the music play and subtle tones of conversation and laughter. Winry's heart sank.


	2. Chapter 2

Swirling sounds and grandiose red garb left Winry dizzy. Women in grand gowns were twirling around with men in suits fine and scarlet. Conflicting sounds of orchestra and piano fought for control, making for a war of pretty melodies. Faces Winry did not recognize, knowing glances from unknowns, and words of praise granted her way left Winry lost. Here, in the midst of the new nobility, Winry felt more like someone watching a play than the woman of the hour. Sure, there were others here to be honored, but everyone else seemed a thousand times more comfortable than she. Hesitantly, Winry found a place to sit. A small circular table, garnished by candles and fine china, Winry was alone in every sense of the word.

"I'm a fool." She muttered, hands crossed in her lap. Having set out to find answers, she did not anticipate finding such an eloquent and enormous affair. Looking around the room, Winry could tell that most everyone in the room was completely at home here. Former military members like Riza Hawkeye would not be here, nor would anyone with answers be here either. In that instant, a thought struck her that made her feel rather sad. What if she were the last person in all of Amestris who was out in the open and free who supported alchemy? How odd would that be, a person robbed of friends and happiness in many respects by alchemy now its last defender?

Winry sighed, her eyes sweeping across the party for a familiar face, again to no avail. Defeated, Winry dragged her gaze to her lap. Surely, her night was going to be long and filled with empty words mixed with silence. Gaiety and lightheartedness prevailed around her, and ignorance proved to be the bliss of the night. In frustration, Winry realized she would be going home tonight without accomplishing anything. With the way her trip had been set up, tomorrow would begin with her on a train back home, all neat and packed away. No curfews to be broken or days wasted visiting. Winry had failed. Interrupted in her musings, a man approached Winry, someone she recognized from the papers. He was of military, wearing the required white uniform with red garnishes. The white representing something with the peace the country now sought.

"Why hello there my dear, I suppose you are the famous Winry Rockbell." He greeted kindly, extending a handshake. With a firm grip, Winry felt a bit of hope, thinking this man may be of some help.

"Second general Yoki?" she asked, knowing she was right. Tellingly, Yoki smiled.

"So you have heard of me?" He asked, grinning in a cocky fashion. Winry knew him as the man who had been forced out of the military under false charges, treated unjust by state alchemists who had played the system. Admittedly, Winry did not know the full story, after all, one could not know the newspapers, but from what she could gather, this man was something of a pawn. Every state-run newspaper flagged him as a hero, but in actuality, he was nothing more than a man of opportunity and someone the new government could capitalize on.

"Well who hasn't?" She said, knowing it would play on his ego. She was right, and Yoki laughed, not denying her compliment. Coaxed into a comfortable state, Yoki took a seat beside Winry.

"I hear you were an accomplice of the Elric brothers." He said after some casual conversation. Winry froze, thinking it may be an accusation. She was on fragile ground and worried that she had been figured out. All her fears were quelled with anger with Yoki's next statement.

"I am terribly sorry that they fooled you too. You know my story of how they hurt me. You must have thought they were good people, but really, they were just greedy filth out to harm helpless people like us."

Winry's hands crumpled into fists on her lap. Oh, she had indeed heard that portion of the story. Yoki's story of injustice would have evoked pity had Winry not known Ed and Al. They were far from greedy, both were selfless in every way. Yoki could have all the undeserved praise in the world for all Winry cared, he just better leave her friends' good names alone. This was hardly the place for outbursts though, and Winry defied every fiber of her being to remain calm. A subject change was long overdue.

"Yes, it is tragic really, for your part mostly. Is that why you are here? To receive an award for your…" she asked, pausing in search for the appropriate word, "trials?"

Shaking his head, Yoki waved his hand at the room. "Goodness no, I have already been paid back enough knowing all the good people are happy, and I am finally recognized for my talents. In a place where alchemy alone is what people are judged for by worth, I was totally unacknowledged for what I truly am."

"Scum," Winry thought to herself, "pure scum."

"No, to answer your question Miss Rockbell, I am the host here, and I will present you with your medal." Yoki answered, interjecting her mental defamation of his lies. Sickness overcame her when it dawned on Winry that the man who played a role in the loss of Edward and Alphonse would be presenting her with an award shortly. It felt so wrong, and Winry no longer wished to be near this man. Rising, she excused herself to the restroom, or the powder room, or the moon, anything nowhere near Yoki.

"See you soon." He said, grinning. Miming Yoki's grin, Winry left with no words to share. Striding far off, Winry was tapped on the shoulder less than lightly.

"What?" She demanded, swiveling to face what she thought was Yoki attempting to keep up their chat. Surprising her, it was a waiter.

"Sorry." He apologized for a crime he did not commit. Handing her an envelope, he backed off, unsettled by how untoward Winry had been with him.

"No, I am sorry." She apologized weakly a little too late. The waiter was out of sight now, and her chance to atone was lost. This night was really proving to be the victor in its fight against Winry. Solemnly, she opened the envelope and pulled the letter from within.

Crisp, white, and thin, it read in bold lettering, "Leave."

Fearfully, Winry looked around once more for the waiter and an explanation for the cryptic message. Neither presented themselves. Glancing back down at the note, Winry wondered if this was just a joke with poor humor. No one seemed to be laughing at her, no knowing smiles either. Peering around the room, Winry caught sight of Yoki once more. He was in the middle of a conversation with another military man, so he did not spot her. In disgust Winry's thoughts went back to the idea of Yoki presenting her with a medal.

"Screw this." She muttered, crumpling the tender paper in her hand. She went over to the reception room. The guards stationed to monitor the entrance were few in number, and eyed her with little interest. Gathering all her bravery, Winry strode past them. With all her being she tried to convey the message "Don't bother me, it is okay if I leave." by remaining cool and steady with an even pace.

"Goodnight." A guard said as Winry gripped the door handle. Holding in a sigh of relief, Winry carried on undeterred with greater confidence. Slipping off her torturous shoes, Winry found it easier to quickly descend the stairs. Where she was heading to was inconsequential, more importantly, Winry was free. A couple meters away from the steps of the building, still buzzing with noise and party chatter, Winry spun. Laughing at the building in defiance, the windows seemed to warp into angry glares. Her laughter was cut off by a loud cracking sound. Starting with some sizzling, the building went up with an impressive show of force. Winry had escaped just in time. The building had seemingly exploded, but not with bombs, but fireworks. Their colors, as beautiful as they were violent, filled the sky and replaced the stars. Accompanying them were screams, a few people ran out of the front door. Backing up, Winry recognized that if she did not move soon she would no longer be free.

Turning around, Winry broke into a sprint, only to crash into another person. Under the colorful lights, Winry realized it was the same man she had seen before, the one in black with the strange appearance. Close up, he seemed more fearsome than from when she had seen him in the car. Most notably he seemed genuinely surprised to see her. At first he was entirely fixated on her like some peculiar specimen. His gaze was broken when people called from behind Winry.

"Are you alright?" shouted a man in a military uniform. The strange man Winry was with grabbed her by the wrist.

"Come on." He urged, and with little choice, Winry followed. Winding through narrow streets, empty and further from the explosion, Winry's lungs began to burn. She had so many questions, but to speak would mean taxing her already weary throat. All the while, the man never turned back to her, pressing on to some location. Upon arriving into an alley, he let go over her hand casting it away as if it were garbage.

"Go home girl." He ordered. "When the sun comes up, go home. This place is too dangerous for someone like you."

Winry was quite offended that a stranger would talk to her this way, and felt rebellious.

"Who are you?" She asked, disregarding his demands. Instead of replying, he backed away from Winry. Adding to the mystery, he was then wrapped in light with the sound of sparks, Winry had to force her eyes shut to avoid the bright glow. When she opened her eyes, an entirely different man stood in front of her, his expression just as angry as the one of the person before. Winry let out a yelp. Oddly, he rolled his eyes in exasperation, and turned away, leaving her.

"Humans…" Winry heard him grumble. When it dawned on Winry that she was being left alone in a part of a town she did not know very well, she took after the man who had rounded the corner.

"Wait!" She cried, waving her arms frantically. Coming out of the alleyway, she saw no sight of him in either direction. Running right on a whim, she ran around in circles, completely lost. When her lungs seemed to catch fire, Winry decided to give up, taking a seat on the curb of the sidewalk. Little did she know, the one she sought never truly left her, for he was watching her from the rooftops, ensuring her safety. He sighed, slightly disappointed she gave up so easily.

"Miss!" a person called. Winry and the one watching over her turned their glances over to a pair of military men strolling Winry's way. Watching Winry, the man protecting her thought he recognized some kind of loss in her demeanor. He saw her fold into herself in a way, wrapping her arms around herself and looking at the men from the protection of her body.

"Surely you know it is past curfew." One official scolded. Winry stood, a little wobbly at first, the officials took an aggressive stance.

"I'm lost." She pleaded with a rocky voice. The two men softened and approached Winry, taking her by the wrist, far less gently than the man who had helped her earlier.

"Come along, we'll help you find your home." offered an official. Saying nothing, Winry followed without a fight. From the rooftop, the man watching over hissed lowly, realizing it was too late to step in. He could see more officials coming in, too many to make a scene around. He had not entirely failed though, as he realized the night was still young.


	3. Chapter 3

A burly man stood before Winry, in his white attire, he was most evidently a military man of low rank. Even without his piteous looks and harsh words, Winry knew she was in trouble. The man was bursting from his uniform, at least three times as large as she. Winry kept quiet as he carried on with his questions.

"Why were you out after curfew?" He asked, drawing close to the wooden table where she sat.

"To get some air." She answered. The man slapped the table. Apparently, her answer was wrong. A second military man entered, this one of a higher rank. The second man gave a salute, which consisted of crossing his heart with his hand. Taking a seat across from Winry, the new military man would be taking over the interrogation it seemed.

"Miss," this new man began, "after going through your purse, we found your identification. It appears you were being honored today."

Pausing, he allowed Winry the chance to confirm or deny this. How the civil gesture of bringing her home had turned into a full on interrogation, Winry hardly could recall. While guiding her to the hotel she had been staying, another military man had caught up with them. In a huff, he had informed them of the explosion at the ball. There were no survivors. Being out past curfew, Winry was put into scrutiny.

"You're not guilty yet." The man escorting her told her on her way home said. "We just need to prove your innocence."

As the interrogation progressed, Winry felt more and more like she was guilty. These men had their answers; they were just seeking a confession.

"Yes," she finally relented, "I was at the Ball Honoring Human Innovation."

"You mean Human Ingenuity?" Asked the higher ranked military man, correcting her.

"Yeah." She said.

"So why are we not counting you among the dead Ms. Rockbell?" Asked the higher ranked military man. The question was far from accusative, and in fact, the man was by all means pleasant. Winry's stomach turned regardless. Turning to the other military man, he said, "You may take your leave."

The other man was quick to oblige, and shut the door behind him with a bang.

"I had gone out for some air." She replied, sticking to her story.

"And wound up several blocks away?" He asked incredulously. Winry balled her fists at her lap, knowing it looked guilty.

"I was just frightened after the blast." She insisted.

"How far away did you go for air Ms. Rockbell? Our evidence shows that had you simply been at the stairs debris could have very well killed you. What were your intentions getting air in the first place?" He asked, suspicion clear in his voice. The barrage of questions left Winry feeling frantic.

"I was just in the square, it was so crowded in that building, so many people that I-!" She was cut off by further interrogation.

"Ms. Rockbell, even so, you do have a rather shady past. You hold direct ties to the state alchemist Edward Elric and his alchemy-savvy brother Alphonse Elric. You were also in direct link to the former Colonel Roy Mustang and his crew. There are even reports you housed foreigners from Xing." He said, growing hostile.

"Those things are true," pleaded Winry, "but they were my friends, and I have not seen them in so long!"

"How can we be sure of that?" Asked the military man, returning to a calm tone.

"You… you…" At a loss, Winry conceded. "You can't, but I didn't do anything. I promise."

"If we were to run our country on promises alone girl, wishes and dreams, fairies and unicorns, we would be overrun within a day. I am afraid we'll have to keep you overnight until we can find further evidence to clear your name." He said, rising from his chair. Once again, Winry was assured of a search for her innocence, but now she was overwhelmed with a feeling they would only find guilt. Placed in a dank cell with thick iron bars, Winry was left guarded by a different military man. The cells around her were empty. Anyone arrested by the military never remained captive for long. Death was the most common outcome, maybe a prison, hardly ever innocence. Although the military did not promote these killings, in fact they tried to downplay them, but it was hard to prevent the desperate murmurs of the accused families.

"How much longer until I may leave?" Winry pleaded to a guard walking past. He ignored her, the clack of his fine boots the only sound she could hear.

"Don't cause any trouble and stay here, they'll find evidence to prove you innocent soon enough." The guard across from her said. He left his post, deciding she really could not do much from her cell. Winry slid down to her seat, a cement bench extending from the wall. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. The simple dress she wore provided little protection. With the silence of the cell and the dim light from the filtered daylight, the gravity of Winry's situation hit. A weak sob escaped, but a more powerful cry escaped in succession. Very quickly her body quivered with the might of her grief.

"Oh my," said a voice, "now that's rather annoying."

Winry searched for the source of the voice, finding none. It was the voice of the man from before, the one she had followed. Again, she looked, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Good, enough crying." He said. "It's pathetic."

Winry felt annoyed with the irritation this person felt at her sorrow. Genuine fear and grief should be met only with understanding.

"Who are you?" Winry demanded. The voice was silent for sometime, leaving Winry to feel she had been abandoned. As she settled back into the bench, a reply finally came.

"My name is Envy."

"Envy? That's an," Winry stopped, not wanting to offend the person she considered something of an ally, "interesting… name."

When he said nothing in return, she carried on.

"My name's Winry."

"Yes, I know idiot."

"Hey! How was I supposed to know? And how do you know my name?" She asked enraged. All the while, neither truly raised their voices as to not attract attention. Again, Envy disregarded Winry's previous statement.

"You're guilty anyway." Envy's disembodied voice teased. Winry sat up in her seat, folding her arms.

"I didn't do anything." She insisted, shooting glares to the dark corners of the cell.

"Exactly. You knew something was to happen, you could have told someone, but you didn't. You wanted them to die." Envy laughed.

"No, I had no idea and no one would have believed me!" Winry argued.

"A highly respected scientist like you? But then again, you are a friend of the Elric brothers, so not all that respected." He said.

"I have not seen them in over a year!" She said defiantly. Thinking of this, and being put under such stress, Winry gave in to tears.

"Oh, not again." Envy said with a sigh. Both went silent as a trio of guards came to Winry's cell. Two of the guards were men, and one was a woman. One of the men was the higher-ranking military man from before, the other a man who had taken her here in the first place.

"Ms. Rockbell," began the higher ranking male officer, "after reviewing evidence and proper procedure, we have decided to send you home to Resembool. We are retrieving your things from your hotel, and then we will send you home on the first train out."

Winry said nothing, the group left, leaving the woman as a guard. From her left her she could her the harsh muted laughter from Envy.

"Lucky," he said in a low whisper, "they weren't so kind to Riza Hawkeye."

The woman guard did not seem to notice Envy's teasing. Winry pounded her hand on the bench looking at the ceiling.

"Shut up!" She yelled, forgetting where she was. The female guard gave her an odd look.

"Something wrong?" She asked Winry. Shaking her head, Winry went quiet, as did Envy. Winry tried not to worry too much over the supposed fate of her friend. Before long the man who had interrogated her returned, his expression grim.

"I am afraid Ms. Rockbell, questionable items were found in your possession, and until we can find the full story behind the matter, we must hold you here for further questioning." He informed her.

"Questionable items?" Winry asked. Then it hit her. Ed's pocket watch, she had it sitting atop her bags in the hotel. Indeed, the man drew the watch from his jacket's pocket. The faded metal gleamed in the dim light. Winry's heart sank.

"I don't know what your part is in all of this girl, but believe me, I will find out." He said, looking her in the eye.

"Neither do I…" Muttered Winry. Feeling uncomfortable under her gaze she looked to her feet. Enraged, the man grabbed the bars and raised his voice.

"Don't hide things from me girl. If you have something to say then say it. It is my job to protect the people, and I will not let you harm them. _Do you understand me? Do you understand me?"_

"My, my." Laughed Envy. "I think it's time I helped, don't you?"

"Yes." Said Winry weakly, still looking into her lap.

"What was that girl?" Asked the guard, frustrated further.

"Yes what?" Asked Envy. Looking up to the ceiling, Winry shouted as best she could, her voice cracking slightly.

"Yes please!" And with that, Envy slid down from his hiding place outside her cell, a dark corner of the ceiling behind the two military officials. Occupied with Winry's strange outburst, they did not see Envy coming as he tore into their abdomens. Blood sloshed from them, slapping against Winry with some splatter hitting her face. Organs poured from the holes now in the man and woman's body, sending them to the floor. What remained of their blood began to seep out, caking the cement floor of the hall. Winry gasped from her cell, shaking, she could not hold back the bile from the sight and smell of the scene.

"Watch out." Ordered Envy, kicking the barred cell doors. They caved in with a clang, and Envy pulled them back, dropping them in the bloody remains of the military corpses. Winry held her hands above her face as a shield, quaking in the terrifying shadow of Envy. He rolled his eyes at her display and grabbed her by the waist, heaving her over his shoulder. Winry kicked and screamed.

"Let me go!" She cried. Once more, Envy chose to disregard Winry's words. Stooping down, he plucked Edward's pocket watch from the remains of the military man. He carried down the hall, slamming the occasional military man or woman into a wall, which always resulted in their horrific death without fail. Envy took her to the roof of the building, and to Winry's horror, hopped off. Screaming, she was stunned when they managed to reach the second building's rooftop.

"Enough." Hissed Envy, and Winry complied, knowing what he was capable of. After travelling at least a block in this manner, Envy settled upon one building, a four-storied apartment building filled with loud occupants. From their open windows Winry could hear them carry out booming conversations.

"I'll be back at nightfall. I am already risking enough being out now." He said, looking around carefully.

"But I can't just wait here all day, not like this!" She pleaded. Envy handed her Edward's pocket watch.

"Sure you can." He said without his usual grin. "You've done plenty of waiting before. Just don't get caught today."

Winry eyed him wearily, finally shaking her head.

"Alright," she agreed, "but not a moment after the sun sets!"

Envy laughed, and amidst sparks he shifted shape. Jumping to the alleyway bellow, he was surprisingly unhurt, and carried out into the street unnoticed by military officials and commoners alike. Winry sat in the shade of the door jutting from the roof. She had much to think about in the hours alone ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

Having been left on the roof by her savior, Winry laid out on the roof of a cold water flat. Bellow, she could hear the hustling and bustling of the tenants going about their daily affairs. It was shortly after noon, and Envy had left her some hours prior. No longer able to take refuge in the shade of the door jutting from the roof, Winry was stuck in the overwhelming gaze of the sun. The roof itself was much like an oven, and being up a few stories, Winry saw the sun less like a glowing unobtainable orb and more like a sunflower. Under its heated embrace, she found herself drawn back to the days of her childhood. She swore she could hear Alphonse laughing nearby. Soon she felt a different embrace, one of Edward, her long absent friend home from a journey. It did not occur to her that this was the lashing out of the sun, scalding her skin red.

"I'm sorry." Edward told Winry. It was words she had so longed to hear, even though they were of her own creation. Wearing a sundress, yellow and not red as was currently mandated, actuality never sunk in as she was indeed still wearing her bloodstained red garments. She slid from her seated position to the burning roof, preparing to enter a dreamy cosmos. Before she relinquished herself to her mystical visions, Winry was pulled from her desired world by a greeting. By no means was it sunset, and she feared she had been caught.

"You're looking a little red, are you okay?" asked an intruder, entering from the door Winry had been hiding behind. This intruder was by no means intimidating or hostile, and in fact, Winry thought it to be familiar. Clutching Edward's pocket watch, Winry hoped time would unravel and the name would come to mind of this person.

"Miss Rockbell, are you okay?" repeated the intruder, a woman. Winry attempted to look upon her, but found it straining, and struggled back to a seated position. Visions swirled, it was hard for Winry to make out the woman who was silhouetted by the sun.

"Winry," said this woman, putting her hand on Winry's shoulder, "are you alright? It's me, Riza Hawkeye, I'm not sure if you remember me. How long have you been up here?"

It all came into focus for Winry, well mostly, who still felt pulled into a haze. Riza took Winry by her sides and helped bring her to her feet. Head spinning for a moment, Winry allowed the dizziness to fade away.

"Where's Envy?" asked Winry, regaining her senses. Riza gave a confused look.

"Envy? I am sorry you were left up here so long; there was some misinterpretation with the one that brought you here. Because they could not get here sooner, I was called, and I'm glad I was because you seem to be dehydrated."

In a way, Winry was relieved not to be reunited with Envy. Other than the obvious, there was something about him that gave her an otherworldly feeling. Being with him was uncomfortable, and to escape another encounter would give her no remorse. Riza did not know Envy, which made Winry wonder if these were coincidental encounters or if Envy and Riza were part of some larger operation. Choosing not to voice these questions, Winry followed Riza obediently out the door. Wherever she went, Winry knew she could find allies. As Winry recalled, Riza was of the military, and exceptionally close to state alchemists. It gave Winry hope that she might be led back to Ed and Al.

"I am taking you to a place where I know you will be safe." Riza said, leading the way down the creaky wood staircase.

"With Ed and Al?" Winry asked eagerly, wishing it with all her heart to be true. Had Riza been facing Winry, and if the stairs and hallways were better lit, Winry would have seen the pained look on Ms. Hawkeye's face. A long pause took over, and then Riza sighed.

"No, I'm afraid I could not take you to the Elric brothers. I do not know where they are." She replied. Winry's heart sank. Perhaps her venture would not lead her to her friends after all. Ms. Hawkeye spoke again, this time giving Winry cause for slightly lifted spirits.

"I last saw them six months ago with Roy Mustang, my friend, you may know him. After that, they, and my friend, disappeared."

"So they are alive?"

"When I last saw them, yes."

Silence filled the void again, but it was more joyous on Winry's part, while Riza silently cried before her, going down the final steps and reaching the door.

"We must move quickly, do you understand? If anyone sees you in the state you are in, especially those of the new establishment, we could run into trouble." Instructed Riza, Winry nodded in response. Opening the door, the dim hallway was illuminated by the bright day and the rich smells of the street poured in. Riza exited and turned left, and Winry almost had to sprint to keep up. Ahead of Winry, Ms. Hawkeye walked at a steady and dignified pace. Feeling younger than her years, Winry was reminded of the times she would listen to Ms. Hawkeye's words with wonder and interest. Crossing a few intersections, Winry drew a few intrigued and worried looks, but did not stop to allow for comments.

"We're almost there." Winry heard Ms. Hawkeye say. Suddenly Ms. Hawkeye took a sharp turn into an alley, and Winry almost fell replicating the move. Walking to the back of a brick building, Riza climbed the few steps to the back door, which was unlocked. Holding it open, for Winry, Riza allowed Winry to lead this time, for there was a person clearly waiting for them. With a welcoming smile and a bag of junk and gears, this was a person Winry did not know very well, but certainly recognized.

"Hello Kain, this is my friend, Miss Winry Rockbell, she is the one I called you about." Riza said, speaking to her comrade. Kain looked to Winry and smiled.

"Hello Ms. Rockbell, I think I recall you, I am Kain Fuery." He said, adjusting his bag to one arm so he could extend an arm. Accepting it, Winry smiled.

"Nice to see you again Mr. Fuery." She said. None of them moved. They were in a back staircase, one that was intended for escaping fires, but used rarely. They had more privacy here than they might in an apartment where one always felt watched with windows and thin walls. Riza turned to Winry.

"You'll be staying with Kain for now, I'm not sure how long you will be here, but if it becomes an issue, there are many people who we could contact to take you in."

Her words struck Winry as being odd. "Contacts? People from the military?"

Kain and Riza both laughed lightly, looking to one another with a knowing gaze.

"Some," answered Riza, "but there are quite a few others who are just friends. Others are people who are friends of friends, and just people we can trust, allies."

"Is this some kind of rebellious organization?" Winry asked. Riza and Kain burst out laughing this time, attempting to lower their volume so those around would not hear. Feeling very silly for asking, Winry wore a sheepish smile.

"I like that, and I guess in a way we are. Riza and I are just people who want to survive and help our friends of like minds, if that makes us rebels, then so be It." said Kain, still wearing a smile. He was so earnest Winry felt a little less dumb. Keeping company with rebels, busting out of jail, learning her friends were possibly alive, it was quite a day for Winry.

"So you don't know the guy who saved me?" Winry asked. Both Kain and Riza shook their heads.

"I didn't even know they were a man." replied Riza. "It is all luck of the draw in that sense. When someone hears of someone else being in danger, a call is put out and help is sent that person's way."

Winry folded her arms pensively. "Then who sent the person to save me?"

Again, the shake of heads, Kain spoke this time. "We do not know. We just occasionally get messages from different people to help out with different things. A little bird in fact told me that certain people we are in contact for that bombing of the ball you may have heard on the radio."

Winry's heart caught, fearing she was now in the company of violent rebels. A part of her, knowing these people to members of the former military, did not doubt that under orders would do acts many would not even consider.

"No more time for questions on my end," said Ms. Hawkeye, "I must return to work soon, even in these times I still need a paycheck. Goodbye Winry."

"Goodbye Ms. Hawkeye."

"See you Riza."

Riza left, and though Kain did say see you, Winry got the feeling they would not be seeing her again, at least not for a great period of time. Kain did not show any stress however, and he wiggled his bag around again and looked to Winry, a little uneasy now that they were left alone.

"To my home then?" He asked. Sheepishly Winry smiled, feeling the burgeoning relationship they were forming.

"If it's of no trouble."

"Then let's go." He turned, and up the stairs they went. Winry felt giddy with ideas of the future.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm off Winry!" called Mr. Fuery from the doorway.

"Okay, see you for dinner?"

"Yes." He called back, shutting the door behind him. Winry sighed, looking around the cozy apartment. The porcelain dishes of breakfast were caked with jam and sprinkled with crumbs. That would be about five minutes of cleaning. Then there were the half-empty cups of earl grey, cool after an extended breakfast. Another five minutes of cleaning. Then what? She looked around the apartment, slightly dark, but homey. After having lived with Mr. Fuery for over a week now, she had made it spotless. She switched on the radio, hoping to occupy some time.

"Yes," answered the speaker to an unheard question, "I think that it's safe to assume that…"

Winry did not carry on listening, only after white noise. Reaching for breakfast's dishes, Winry had to roll up the sleeves of Kain's shirt tightly. He had loaned her some clothes since Winry had none of her own. To be honest, she had been amazed the trousers had stayed up, loose as they were. The button-up, off-white shirt itself was practically a dress as well. Regardless, Winry could not complain. Taking the dishes to the small kitchen, Winry cleaned them proficiently, having offered to do chores as a thank you for Mr. Fuery's kindness. How long she would have to stay, Winry did not know. Envy was going to take her home when the heat had died down from their bloody exit from the jail, whenever that would be. Thankfully, the incident had been stricken from the news. It was counterproductive for such a fresh government to allow the public to know they were incapable of seizing any criminal.

"Well," the radio carried on, catching Winry's ear, "the explosion at the government hall was only a sign of the barbaric nature of those who oppose the regime."

Ah yes, the bombing attack at the ball. On her first night with Mr. Fuery, he had prepared a luxurious dinner, which Winry graciously accepted. Over the course of her stay, she had found him to be extremely courteous to her. His work at a telephone operation company meant strange hours, but he had been there that night, the night of the announcement. Discussing the potential whereabouts of Roy Mustang, Edward, and Alphonse, they were quite taken aback when the radio came on by itself. Outside, speakers reserved for important announcements also were stirred to life.

"Strange, isn't it?" teased an unknown announcer. "Here I am, just out of reach of this sad little government's hands."

"What's going on?" asked Winry, almost having to shout over the radio. Mr. Fuery did not reply, listening intently to the radio.

"Perhaps it would not be necessary for me to hide out in a democratic society. Unfortunately, this is not such a culture that condones civil discourse. No, this is one where the common man is silenced and oppressed, only for this government to declare him a hero, reaping the benefits." Crashes and shouting could be heard from outside. Going to the window Winry saw people out on walks being ushered home early by police. It seemed they were running on hasty orders. All the while, the radio carried on. Mr. Fuery remained seated, his expression was impossible to read.

"When did it start? When did citizen go from being saved to being slaughtered? Prime Minister Harris, as does the rest of the Council, would prefer you not ask such questions. I assure you that they are working tirelessly to silence me this instant. Much as they may try and silence me, they cannot silence your thoughts. Stop hiding, and prepare yourself for a freedom only you can bring."

The radio and speakers went dead, leaving a deathly silence. Leaving the window, Winry sat back down with Fuery. Shaken up, Winry felt as if she were sitting on stone. Knowing the announcement meant an uncertain future, Winry began to feel a wave of panic. Mr. Fuery, still stoic, began to draw Winry's suspicion.

"What did you know about this?" She scoffed, feeling as if everything were his fault. He did not have an opportunity to reply before Winry spoke again. "We just got out of a war. Now you want to start another one?"

"It won't come down to that." interjected Mr. Fuery.

"How do you know?" she countered.

"I have faith in the good of man, and Roy Mustang. Edward and Alphonse are a part of this too, do you not have faith in them?" he argued. Indeed, Winry had undying faith in Edward and Alphonse, even now, Winry knew they were alive and doing what they thought to be best. However, thinking of the battles and further death that would most definitely ensue, Winry couldn't help but question them on this matter. Winry frowned, and that night remained coated in silence. The following day there was no mention of their discussion the night before, and it was to remain that way for remainder of her stay. Back to the present Sunday morning, Winry shut off the radio, knowing she would only be switching it back on soon enough. Winry carried on with her daily tasks, thinking no more of that strange first night.

Finally done with all the chores about the house, Winry found that there was little else to do. She flipped on the radio, only to find that the only station was government run, and not playing the wild jazz she had become quite fond of. Flipping the switch, Winry was sad to find that Mr. Fuery had taken the tools with him, so she could not disassemble and assemble the various technologies about the room. Sitting in a comfy armchair, she was restless. Looking to the door and back, Winry thought of the forbidden.

"I'll only be out for a little while." She thought to herself. Since she had no money, it would not take as long as a trip to the market, certainly not one of those picture films. No, Winry decided a short stroll was in order. It was not as if many people knew her face, and surely no one would see her if she just went out the block and back. Grabbing a thin overcoat, Winry was out the door and on the street in no time. Being from the countryside, the fast paced city was thrilling as always. The people of Central were friendly as always too.

"Young lady, interested in buying some furs?" called a vendor from a corner store. Winry shook her head and said a no thank you, carrying on at a faster pace. Coming to the Sunday farmers market, Winry looked on forlornly, knowing that she had promised herself that she would not go. Inside the winding booths and stands, Winry knew there would be someone offering automail parts, and it had been far too long since she had held an artificial limb for her taste. Reaching her hand in her pocket, Winry clutched Edward's pocket watch tightly, wondering what he and Alphonse might do in her place. Alphonse, she reasoned, would not even be out here being the person he was. As for Edward, Winry supposed he would have been on his own from the start. Burdening others was certainly neither of the boys' style. Winry grimaced, and with every bit of guilt, she entered the market with every intention to be in and out as quickly as possible.

"Winry?" called Mr. Fuery from the doorway. He had returned to his apartment for lunch. Hearing no reply, he closed the door behind him quietly, assuming Winry had fallen asleep. In his arms were grocery bags, filled with food and tools for Winry to use for her amusement during her stay. Setting the bags down in the tiled kitchen, Mr. Fuery went to the small space for entertaining. Placing his red button-up coat over a chair, he surveyed the room. Finding Winry had not dozed off; he then went to his room to see if she had gone to his bed or the makeshift one he had set up on the floor. Discovering she was in neither places, he became frantic with good reason.

"Winry!" he called again, "Winry, are you here?"

No reply came to him, and with a sigh, Mr. Fuery sat at his kitchen table, fearing the worst. Smoothing the kinks in his tan trousers as he often did when he was nervous; he contemplated horrific fate after horrific fate Winry surely was facing. He pictured the way the newspapers would convey the story, if it was shared at all, the story about a girl who was hell bent on killing the innocent. Mr. Fuery then sighed to himself, knowing that he could never live with himself for letting Winry take the blame for something she was not a part of. Joining the rebellion had been an act that he knew would put him in danger, but he had not accounted for the danger he had placed on his friends. All Mr. Fuery could do was prepare lunch hoping a knock would come upon his door, but knowing it probably would not.

When Mr. Fuery had finished setting up the table for two, with his chipped china plates and twisted utensils decorated and filled with food lovingly, a knock did indeed come upon his door. It was heavy and carried on for some time before he could make it to his door. Mr. Fuery imagined Winry on the other side of the door, returning after a frightful adventure.

"I'm coming!" he said, hoping to reassure her. A voice came from the other side, but it certainly was not the voice of Winry.

"Mr. Kain Fuery?" asked the voice gruffly through the door. Mr. Fuery paled, but knew there was no escape, so he opened the door.

"Yes," he said upon opening it, "that is me."

"Kain," said the man, a policeman in white addressing Mr. Fuery by his first name, which Mr. Fuery found very rude, "I come on suspicions of supposed anarchy."

"What do you mean?" begged Mr. Fuery, playing innocent. Behind the policemen were about six more. Mr. Fuery found it hard to hide his fear.

"We see that you are not wearing red Kain, is there a reason for this?" asked a second policeman. Mr. Fuery shook his head adamantly.

"Not at all, my red jacket is just over there." He told them; turning he pointed out the coat he had discarded. "It's just hot and I-."

The policemen gave him no time to finish, busting through the entrance, two policemen seized Mr. Fuery and carried him outside, while the remaining men sorted through his belongings, seeking out slanderous evidence. To Mr. Fuery's dismay, he noted his door had been unhinged in this exchange. He could do nothing now, and gripping his glasses tightly, he was tossed in the back of a police vehicle with much bravado. During the entirety of his ride, Mr. Fuery thought of the state of his home, wondering if he was to be reunited with Winry in a cell. Smoothing out his tan trouser legs, Mr. Fuery grimaced at his prospects. When Winry returned to the apartment from an uneventful outing, she found it hard to reach the door. There was a troubling crowd of neighbors gathered outside, obscuring her view. All around her neighbors murmured with disdain. Hearing the harsh sentiment they carried for Mr. Fuery, Winry could not help but increase her concern.

"I never thought he was trustworthy." remarked on neighbor to another.

"They said he was expecting company, he had plates out and everything, should we be worried?" asked one to what Winry thought to be their spouse.

"Did you ever see him wearing red? I didn't." said another. Reaching the door after being shoved about and pushed, Winry could see a notice posted on the door, which was having trouble resting on its hinges. The entrance was roped off. From where Winry stood she could see at the top of the notice the heading read, "Enemy of the State," in a bold, ugly font. Winry, wishing to scream and throw a fit stayed silent thinking better of it being in the small crowd outside of the door. Having nowhere to go, she thought little of her situation and more of Mr. Fuery's miserable lot. Someone put their hand on her shoulder. Fearing she'd been caught, Winry spun around contemplating how difficult her escape might be.

"It's time to go," said the stranger, a woman. Looking into the violet eyes of the stranger, Winry swore she knew them. Then it struck her, a mad thought, but Winry was positive.

"Envy?" she asked of the stranger.


	6. Chapter 6

Fleeing from the apartment of Kain Fuery, Envy had taken the lead. Clinging to Envy's hand, Winry had no idea where they were headed or how Envy had found her. Street after street they bounded through Central. Never turning back to see if Winry was okay, he kept a blank face. Occasionally a dismissive comment would reach Winry's ears over the impropriety of Envy's attire, which was not red, but no moves were made to stop them. They'd passed the commercial districts and travelled deep into areas filled with factories and railroad yards. Being there, Winry felt she was stuck in a black and white picture. When they approached a door to an eerie factory, Winry decided she had enough. Winry took her hand away from Envy's, her stare penetrating. Of course she worried he would keep going on without her, and she would be left to her own devices in a city full of enemies. Nevertheless, she wanted answers.

"Where are we going?" she asked, crossing her arms. With a sigh, Envy seemed to slump forward, quite put out with her interruption.

"As if you need to know girl." he said, giving her an exasperated look.

"I do need to know, my friend was taken away! Where is Kain Fuery?" She demanded. Envy paused, his expression cold, but soon he wore a wicked grin, one Winry would eventually become well acquainted with. In a flash of light, Envy soon appeared as Mr. Fuery himself, from hair to glasses, to the old blue uniform once worn by the military.

"You mean this guy?" He asked. Gesturing across his body, Envy left his hands resting on his hips. Winry nodded, awestruck by the transformation.

"Yes, was that alchemy?" she asked.

"Something like it." He answered, grinning at his little secret.

"So where is he?" asked Winry, fearing the worst.

"He's probably dead or wishing he was dead right now." He answered, seeming to take some joy in the idea. Winry, disgusted with his apparent pleasure due to her friend's misfortune, was overcome by anger. Shoving Envy with all her might, she glared, seeing she had no effect. Even Envy's twisted smile remained in place.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Remember that bombing a couple weeks ago?" Envy asked. Winry said nothing, so he carried on. "The people want answers, and your friend is that answer."

"But he had nothing to do with it!" Winry cried. Laughing, Envy shook his head. In that moment, Winry hated Envy, perhaps unrightfully so, but she needed something to hate. Something needed to take the blame for the disruption in her life, starting from that bombing at the ball to the start of the revolution against alchemy, and at the moment it was Envy.

"Of course he didn't. He's just the fall guy. The idiot didn't do as he was told, and when you don't blend in, bad things happen." Smiling, Envy delivered the news of Mr. Fuery's certain doom with ease. Overwhelmed by questions, tired from all the running, Winry felt her legs grow tired. Leaning over, she rested on her rescuer's shoulder, the person she despised then. Surprised, he did nothing to stop her. After having stayed in Mr. Fuery's home for so long, Winry had become used to the inactivity. With another flash, Envy turned back to his original shape.

"Can't we save him?" she muttered from his side. Envy didn't reply, for there was no need to reply. Tears welled up in Winry's eyes, and soon fat, ungraceful sobs took over her. Another person who had taken care of her had fallen to this government. If this government had truly been for the people she thought, then they would never have taken away the people she had loved. Resting together, it was Envy who decided it was time to carry on.

"Come on, we have to hurry girl." He said, taking her arm.

"I have a name you know." She argued.

"Yes, whatever, let's go." Envy opened the door with ease, travelling into a well-lit hallway with Winry following begrudgingly. She made no move to free herself from his grip.

"Where are we going?" She insisted. Without turning, Winry heard Envy make a sound of disgust.

"To the runt, you're too dangerous for all their lackeys." Hearing the word runt, Winry lit up.

"Edward?" Envy looked back to her; they'd reached a room. Under a worn desk, Envy opened a trap door, revealing a winding staircase. His violet eyes glimmered with an emotion, Winry guessed it was annoyance, but she knew that was not entirely correct. Taking off her topcoat, Winry prepared to go down the stairs.

"The very same pipsqueak and his big little brother." he answered. Releasing her arm, Envy descended the stairs, Winry trailed with greater enthusiasm. "Close the door behind you."

"They're here?" she asked, her smile broad. Envy, who usually carried a wide and wicked grin, now eyed her with a stern expression over his shoulder. Though Winry could not be at fault, she infuriated Envy unintentionally. In retaliation, he decided he wouldn't be so candid with her anymore. All he agreed to do was bring Winry safely to the runt, but he had never agreed to be kind to her. Behind him Winry's excitement turned to frustration at his silence.

"Why didn't you tell me they were here? Why didn't you take me to them right away?" she asked, feeling even more disdain for her strange accomplice. This time Envy did not turn around, which only increased Winry's irritation.

"Hey!" she called to him.

"If you really want answers, then get them from that runt yourself." He answered coolly. Winry, who had enough of Envy's cold treatment, decided that was the best answer. Once she was with Edward, she would be able to finally leave this frustrating person behind. In the meantime, she would have to trust that Envy was indeed leading her to Edward and Alphonse, and that everything would be fine as long as she was in his care.

Across town, Mr. Fuery was in a particularly undesirable situation. After having been taken to military headquarters, he had been left alone in a locked interrogation room for a great period of time. Hands cuffed, he had them neatly folded on the thin wood table. Having spent many years in the military himself, he recognized the tactic quite well, and was preparing for a strict interrogator. Going over the facts, he readied himself to protect his friends' locations and identities. Because he knew this was an eventuality, Mr. Fuery had long prepared answers for such an occasion. With a click, the door opened.

"Well Mr. Fuery, I guess this was to be expected from you. Though it is a surprise to me that you were able to evade the system for so long." said the woman with a smile. Mr. Fuery gasped, recognizing the symbol on her chest.

"You're a homunculus!" he cried, making the woman smile seductively.

"Why yes, and I suppose you know my name?" she asked, twisting her hair, keeping one hand on her chest bellow her symbol of the ouroboros. Mr. Fuery shook his head in protest.

"But you died!" he exclaimed, backing out of his chair and away. "We killed you!"

"Ah yes, little Lust, fire killed with fire. Well, I'm back now, so don't you worry about me. Now please, have a seat, we're going to have a conversation now."

Mr. Fuery shook in place; he knew very well what she was capable of. Caving into fear, he crept to his seat slowly. Although he was certain she had died long before the war, here she was, standing right in front of him. In resignation he realized he stood no chance against her, so the best option was to remain quiet, and hope for a quick and merciful death. This was a very tall order, he was aware.

"This will be very easy Kain," she said, her smile never fading, "just answer each question right, and for every wrong answer, well one of these will come out."

With a flick of her left pointer finger, a horrid claw extended like a twisted knife. Mr. Fuery withheld a gasp, knowing it would do him no good.

"Let's go with an easy question, who were you expecting to eat with you today?" she asked, her extended finger scraping across the desk. Mr. Fuery shook, thinking of Winry who he hoped was safe and far away from this woman's claws.

"A friend." He answered. Lust's smile became vindictive for a moment, but eased up. Mr. Fuery felt trapped under her piercing eyes.

"What friend?" she asked.

"Someone from work, just a colleague." he said, his eyes wide behind his frames. Lust nodded, accepting the answer.

"Alright, I'll let that one go for the time being." She said, making Mr. Fuery's heart sink. "Tell me Riza Hawkeye's location."

"I don't know, she never told me, it is just safer not to know." He replied. Mr. Fuery was proud of his ability to keep his voice so level in this situation. He hoped it would be enough to keep Lust at bay. His hopes were dashed when Lust released a second knife-like finger. Drawing her two fingers on her left hand across Mr. Fuery's cheek, Lust kept an inviting smile on as he called out in pain, blood going down his face.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Mr. Fuery nodded, saying nothing. Lust showed no signs of frustration. With grace she moved closer to the table where Mr. Fuery sat.

"Yes! She moved from her old apartment, I don't know where she is now." He answered. Flicking her hand, Lust dug her pointer finger into the back of Mr. Fuery's hands that had been resting on the table. Mr. Fuery shrieked, contorting with the pain, tears drawing into his eyes.

"It's the truth! I swear!" he cried out. Lust carried onto the next question, not revealing whether she believed him or not.

"Who made the bomb that killed all those lovely people a few weeks ago?" She asked, her curved lips shining under the unflattering light of the interrogation room. Mr. Fuery kept his hands close to his chest, the blood seeping onto his shirt. He dared not make eye contact with Lust, for he feared she would compel him to reveal truths he had fought so hard to hide.

"I don't know I wasn't a part of that." Lust withdrew a third sharp finger, directing all three fingers into the right socket of Mr. Fuery's shoulder. Falling out of his chair, Mr. Fuery was gasping in pain. His interrogation carried on for what seemed like days, but could only have been hours. True to his word, he said very little. Most of the questions she asked, he sincerely knew nothing of. It was the decision of the disorganized rebels that in order to remain safe, they would only work loosely together, so they could carry on if someone was lost. This meant Lust was unsuccessful in her information gathering until the final question. Bleeding and bruised, Mr. Fuery was propped up against the brick wall of the interrogation room.

"Where is Roy Mustang?" She asked; all ten of her fingers sharp as knives and coated in red. Saying the name Roy Mustang with particular venom, her welcoming smile was now absent. Mr. Fuery had to spit out the blood that had accumulated in his mouth before he could speak.

"I don't know." He replied. Lust sliced the side of his neck, careful to avoid major arteries.

"Fine," she said, seeing he'd reached his limit, "that will be all for today."

Withdrawing her long fingers, Lust left the room with a quiet click of the door. Soldiers in white came in shortly after to retrieve him. They grumbled over how the blood dirtied their uniforms, but were efficient in taking him to his cell, one that was shared with another looking not so great himself. Mr. Fuery recognized him immediately, and when he rested on the bed adjoining his cellmate, he worked up the effort to talk to him.

"Jean?" he asked through the blood. The man on the other bed made no move, he was unconscious, or so Mr. Fuery hoped. There was no mistaking it though; Jean Havoc was now in the same cell as he. Mr. Fuery thought of all his former comrades, and wondered how many were jailed, how many were dead, and how unfortunate their situation truly was. Downtown at that time, one of his comrades was currently on the run.

"Stop!" called a soldier. Riza Hawkeye only increased her speed, running down an alley to an adjacent street. It was unclear how many soldiers were chasing her now, but she was positive there were at least five. They had busted into her apartment an hour ago, but they were not prepared for her. Ms. Hawkeye, proficient in weapons, always had one on hand, legal or not. From her kitchen cabinet she pulled out a pistol, taking out one of them. Going to her fire escape, she had been evading them ever since, but her energy was fading.

"Stop!" another soldier ordered. Although she wanted to hide, she knew that she had to find Roy Mustang first. Wherever he was, she knew she would be safe. All she had to do was lose these soldiers so she didn't bring them to their hideout, and then it would be a simple matter of finding headquarters and asking the right questions. Turning a corner down an alley, Ms. Hawkeye's hope fell. Standing before her was the wall of a building, and there was only one way out, she was trapped. The soldiers rounded the corner, their flashlights trained on her.

"Riza Hawkeye, you are under arrest for suspicion of conspiracy, murder, and anarchy." Read a commanding officer. Ms. Hawkeye backed against a wall, seeing no way out.


	7. Chapter 7

Sitting across from Envy, who was disguised as a doctor with warm green eyes and dark hair, Winry Rockbell felt quite odd. Here they were, chatting amicably in a well-to-do neighborhood café as if the previous hours had not unfolded at all. Surrounding them were affluent businessmen and wives and mistresses eating out after a day of shopping and tiresome happenings. Their mixed conversations made for a buzz like a beehive that was perfect for concealing talks of coos and kidnappings. Envy wore a lab coat and had a stethoscope to keep up an image that at first Winry did not grasp, until it all became clear when Envy hailed a waitress over.

"My friend would like tea," he told the waitress, young and gaunt, "and the day's soup if you will."

"Your girlfriend sir?" asked the waitress, surprisingly bold to Winry. Envy laughed much unlike his typically cold self, with a laugh ringing odd to Winry in his veiled voice.

"No, no, not at all." He assured the girl with a wave of his hand, "Miss Roberts here has cancer I'm afraid. She'll be dead soon enough."

Kicking him under the table, Winry sent him a not so subtle look of disdain, but Envy kept his composure, as did the waitress. The waitress, Anne her name was, went through the motions of coming off apologetic to Winry, the supposed cancer patient. Once finished with this routine, Winry was astounded to see the waitress seemed relieved to find Winry was dying opposed to being in the way to the fake doctor. It was then Winry discovered the manipulative genius in Envy's disguise.

"No, nothing for me," he told the waitress, turning down the offered menu for the fifth time, "could I pay the bill now perhaps?"

"Oh no," answered Anne the waitress, "doctors eat free."

Smiling, the waitress walked off looking back more than once at their table. Winry scowled, tapping her short fingernails across the table. Envy looked to her, and with an ostentatious grin ran a tanned hand through his dark brown hair.

"You look ridiculous." Winry muttered, secretly thinking him handsome this way.

"That's the point Ms. Roberts." He said, letting his true raspy voice seep through. Oddly enough, Winry enjoyed this far more than his fake one.

"You're like one of those guys in the moving pictures, do you always cheat people out of money this way?" she asked, still irritated by the lie.

"You think so?" Envy asked, disregarding her question and keeping only the compliment.

Sighing, Winry decided it was pointless to pry. Looking at her feet, Winry felt out of place eating in such a nice restaurant. Feeling inside her pocket, she touched the watch she had received so long ago, feeling it to be her only tie to sanity these days. She wondered if Envy did this sort of thing all the time, who he was and how he knew Edward and Alphonse. More pressing still when thinking of Envy, was he really the soft-faced doctor before her, the woman who had taken her from Mr. Fuery's home, or the monster who had slaughtered those guards in a malicious display? Right now, he was her guide, and that was the best she could come up with. Taking her hands across her face, she allowed a small sigh to pass by her lips.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Winry, feeling quite drained.

"You, Miss Roberts, only need to trouble yourself with getting some rest."

"Enough with the ruse." snapped Winry, resting her chin upon her propped hand.

Envy smiled in return, his teeth gleaming like an advertisement for toothpaste. His resemblance to a snake unnerved Winry. Even with the illusion of a fine doctor, he still carried himself quite like the monster she had seen not so long ago. The waitress returned, teacup in hand, promising the soup would be ready soon. Once more she asked if Envy wished for anything, to which he responded once more in the negative a little more curtly this time. He carried on with their conversation, refusing to call Winry by her true name and driving her mad in the process.

"Why, Miss Roberts, there is no ruse here. Things are hot in Central, too hot to move you know." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "You will stay in a hospital until the higher ups can move you to a more advanced facility, in Creta perhaps, Drachma if we have to, or maybe even Xing if that is what's best."

"So where will I stay until then?" asked Winry, not buying the idea that Envy had found her a hospital room to stay in.

"There's a good old doctor I know, returned from Ishval on business, or so I've heard."

"And I am staying in his home? To what end? Will another person be jailed for being involved with me?" asked Winry, knowing nothing of this so-called doctor.

"No, no, no one has gone to jail for being involved with you, if that is a crime you would receive the death penalty dear. Mr. Fuery was in this way further than harboring the occasional pipsqueak alchemist's girlfriend. The doctor will be providing the files we need to check you in."

Taking a sip of her tea, Winry thought of Kain Fuery, and of how very little she truly knew of him. After the radio message from the terrorist, she had steered clear of prying further into his affairs, what he felt, and the causes he believed in. All Winry cared to know was that Mr. Fuery was a kind man who had taken her in. Here Envy was almost disparaging him to her, and Winry wanted none of it. Feeling bitter as her thoughts turned back to Envy too soon for her liking, Winry narrowed her eyes at him. Noticing the look she sent him, he only seemed to enjoy her disdain, and smiled gleefully.

"What about you, why are you in this? Were you a state alchemist?"

The waitress returned with the promised soup, but it would only grow cold beneath Winry as she was too tense to eat.

"Well?" she asked, "What do you get out of this deal?"

"Would you believe me if I said money?" said Envy.

"No," answered Winry thoughtfully, "something tells me that you don't need or want it, and not just because of this face you've put on."

"So you admit this face is attractive?" teased Envy.

"No, is it power, were you once powerful, and now you want that back?"

Envy shook his head, his smile fading. Around them the discussions of neighbors and upcoming parades overwhelmed their far more dramatic one. Unable to help himself, Envy imagined terrific moments of personal catharsis where he would send Winry flying for threatening to blow their cover. Did she not notice how careless she was speaking? Though he found his guardian act tiresome, he was diligent in not breaking character.

"No." he answered, damned if he were to elaborate.

"Then what?" demanded Winry, "What is it that you are after?"

Determining there was no sin in truth telling, Envy allowed much hated honesty to pass his lips.

"What I want is so human that it's inhuman. You'll never understand, but I've been around years, hundreds of years Miss Roberts." He said, spitting her pseudonym out with venom, "And I know that helping out is my best chance of getting that wish."

"What is it that you want?" pressed Winry.

"Everything that I hate." replied Envy.

His tone was so blasé that Winry felt taken aback. There was an absurdity that she was both disturbed and annoyed by, but a mysteriousness she admired too. What she did not know was that as she sized up Envy, he was measuring her. Though he had taken her at first for a wearisome young girl who would only weigh him down, he was finding her to be a hardened realist, equally wearisome at that. She was broken, and if there was one thing Envy could relish in, it was broken humans.

"What do you hate?" she asked, leaning in.

Envy leaned back in his chair, wondering if he truly wanted to delve into his desires with a girl he barely knew or wanted to know. Rarely acting without purpose, Envy was a creature of calculation and apathy. He knew a human in his place would see this as an opportunity to reach out and connect, but Envy was no human, and he did not understand the reasoning in making himself vulnerable to her. Looking her in the eyes, seeing the expectant twinkle behind them, he saw a girl who would easily crack under pressure, who was immune to logic and reason under the potent drug of her emotions. If she were to know his hatred, then she would know his intentions, and everything would be ruined. Upon this conclusion, Envy returned to an expression of content. Standing up, he offered Winry his hand and returned to his gentlemanly doctor routine.

"We have a long walk ahead of us Miss Roberts, I suggest we go now."

Reluctantly, she accepted his offered hand, and together they left the restaurant, bill unpaid. Behind them the overeager waitress bid them farewell and went ignored much to her dissatisfaction. In the time they had spent running from the flat to the café, night had fallen deeply, and curfew was pressing upon them. Men in their pressed white uniforms were out ushering citizens to their homes. Seeing Envy in his doctor's guise, they were reluctant to approach, and let Winry and Envy be. On the way to the hospital where Winry would be staying, Envy purchased the evening paper with money Winry was surprised to learn he possessed. He offered it to her, saying it would be boring in the hospital. Gratefully tucking it under her arm, Winry wondered how long the duration of her stay would be. Together they walked hand in hand, Envy holding her more hand like a child's than a lover's.

"Will you be staying there?" asked Winry.

"At the hospital?" said Envy.

"Yes, are you going to be my doctor?"

"Don't be absurd, as if I would live amongst the filth of the hospital waiting out some battle. I am just here to drop you off Miss Roberts."

Their journey brought them past the wreckage of the ball, now being sorted through and cleansed. Painted billboards with military leaders promised an even greater building in its wake both modern and powerful. All about speeches were assured on billboards to re-energize the nation and city of Central. It all seemed so normal; the people seemed so prosperous, that Winry had to question the necessity of eliminating it all. It only took one moment's thought of Alphonse and Edward and all those who had died in vain to disperse such thinking.

"Here we are." announced Envy, stopping before a stone building.

Its architecture was closer to that of a cathedral than anything else. Beneath it, one could not help but be impressed. Benches were lined along the entrance with the occasional smoker seated at them. Nurses in oddly shaped hats gossiped and laughed near the hedges, paying no heed to curfews within the safe grounds of healing.

"You're hiding me right across from the government headquarters?" asked Winry in disbelief.

Envy shrugged and kept walking up to the hospital.

"This is the only hospital independent of the government. You will find it very safe here, just do not leave on little adventures and you will be fine."

Reaching the doors to the building, Envy paused. Digging in his lab coat pocket he pulled out some government documents.

"Your papers Miss Roberts," he said, "feel better, and I will be back soon."

Hesitantly Winry took them and ascended the steps into the hospital, finding no problem in being offered a room. That night, as she laid her head upon the stuffed pillow, sleep did not come easy. Thoughts of Envy, the ever-changing rescuer, and Kain Fuery overwhelmed her. Rest would have evaded her entirely, had she known what was taking place just one hundred yards away underground. In a dank prison cell, Mr. Fuery was trying to revive his friend, who he assumed to be dead at this point.

"Jean! Jean!" Kain Fuery shook Jean Havoc by the shoulder, receiving only hushed groans of protest.

Though Kain was relieved to find his friend was in fact alive, he was horrified to find his friend in such a state. Jean made a motion in attempt to sit upright, but failed. Kain rested a hand on Jean's shoulder in reassurance.

"I'm sorry." Kain heard Jean murmur.

Kain would have cried, but his fear and adrenaline were too great to fight. He sat by the bed on the stone floor, watching Jean to ensure he did not fall back asleep quite yet. His friend looked messy, hair disheveled, clothes bloodied, and face unshaven. Jean coughed; it was an old trademark of his smoking habit. Noticeably a packet of cigarette was absent from his front pocket. Doubtful that Jean had quit, Kain worried it was a method of torture that Jean would be hard pressed to go up against.

"I thought she was dead." said Jean.

Kain knew to whom he was referring to.

"Mustang defeated Lust in battle, I am sure of it." confirmed Kain. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough, I have not said a word, I swear. There was not much to say anyway."

Kain laughed low and mirthlessly, adjusting his cracked frames.

"This firewall plan is genius until you really think about it and realize that you're the wall." he said to Jean.

"Yeah, they have others here I think, no, I'm positive. When I first arrived, Breda was here, but they moved him or something."

"Do you know who he was roomed with before?" asked Kain.

"No, a lot of people have passed through these doors as far as I can tell, which means someone is talking. They have to be deeply involved too. How else would someone know of you, Breda, and me when we were working separately and on different projects with absolutely no contact?"

"Do you know where they moved Breda?"

"No, they just mentioned he had given them all the information they needed and carried him off."

Jean paused, his thoughts clearly tumultuous. Kain tried his best to fight off the gravity of his situation. It was beginning to dawn on both men the danger they were truly in, and how escape seemed impossible. No windows, very little light, they were in a cage awaiting their demise, and it was only a matter of time before they proved to be expendable to their captors. Kain climbed up to his bed. Closing his eyes, he covered his head with a pillow and allowed sobs to overcome him. Beneath him Jean was either asleep or allowing Kain time to be alone, for he said nothing. That next morning Jean was taken away by familiar guards in white. They came for Kain some unidentifiable time later.

"Where are your friends, the ones who give you information?" asked a guard to Kain.

Kain did not answer, so a second guard hit him in the back of the neck with the butt of his rifle. The interrogation carried on, with Lust taking over halfway through. No matter how brutish the military's guards could be, nothing they did compared with Lust. She was unafraid of absolute violence, and unlike the men interrogating him, Kain knew she truly enjoyed his cries of pain. This was less of a chore and more of a diversion for her.

"I thought you were dead." Spat Kain, almost in accusation.

"In my defense, so did the government of you." She answered coolly, "Death is just a phase these days it seems."

"What happened? You were dead! Roy Mustang killed you!"

A sleek finger shot into his upper left arm. Kain cried out, cringing but unable to resist with the tight restraints they had placed on him. Lust withdrew her knife like finger slowly, painfully twisting it as she did.

"So he did." She answered.

Kain did not dare to press her further, and Lust continued with her games for what seemed like agonizing days. When Kain was returned to his cell, Jean was already there. This time Kain did not wish for conversation, and simply fell upon his bed to nurse wounds that would not heal. Jean did not speak either, and the night was spent in respectful silence as each man prepared for the next day's trials. This pattern carried on for innumerous days. Here time was irrelevant, so it was impossible for them to tell how long they had endured. Neither man revealed information to Lust or the guards. Even amongst themselves they chose only to speak of the things they missed. Girls for Jean, sun for Kain, books for Jean, walks at night for Kain, and so on.

"They're done with me." said Jean one night, eating the plain dinner the guards had provided.

"Don't say that." scolded Kain, trying in vain to stay hopeful.

"It's true," protested Jean, "They've stopped asking questions now, and they just beat me around a little and leave me in that room to stew. I couldn't take much more anyway, I feel like death is waiting to take me. All I need is for Lust to allow it."

Kain did not doubt Jean, but he desperately wished to have a friend to last with him. Hope against hope, he wanted to believe there was a plan for them, that they were accounted for. Hell, it did not even have to be Roy Mustang busting down doors with waves of flame, it could be anyone for all he cared. Dejectedly, he acknowledged the risk involved, and the resistance was nowhere near ready yet for an assault so audacious. The pair were taken away again, interrogated, and returned. This time Jean was returned to his cell after Kain, and he was unconscious. He looked awful, and even Kain's optimism could not battle the truth.

"I'm dying." Jean told him upon wakening.

"You're dramatic, that's for sure." replied Kain, fighting back tears from the safety of his bed.

Jean laughed with him, but wound up with a coughing fit instead.

"They did not even try to push me around this time, they just let me fall."

Looking down, Kain saw Jean's plate still full of food. Coming down from his bed, it took all of Kain's strength left from the day to meet his friend. The sight caused tears to overtake him, and for the first time Kain allowed them to flow freely before his comrade. Jean was as close to skeletal as the living could be, haggard and worn, his face was grey and dirty. It was a shame, and Kain hated that anyone would have to die in such an indignant fashion.

"I'm sorry." He said to Jean.

"For what?" asked Jean, "There's nothing you could do."

Kain sighed in resignation, knowing it to be true. He did not go to his bed that night, staying by Jean's side. Jean fell asleep, his hollow, jagged breathing slowing decreasing as the night continued. Kain swore he heard him take his last breath in the middle of the night. Kain wept, not only for Jean, but for himself. He knew this was to be his future, and judging the strain he felt upon his heart, this future was not so far off. Never leaving Jean's side, Kain was waiting patiently when the guards in white came for Jean.

"Go away." He ordered.

Ignoring him, they stepped forward to retrieve Jean.

"I said go away you bastards!" cried Kain, leaping from the floor.

With a swift move a muscular arm, the guard sent Kain back to the ground. The only mark of Kain's attempted attack was the smear of dirt on the man's white sleeve. The other guard was now beside Jean, adjusting his frail body with ease and lifting him from the bed. Kain leapt once more, but the guard knocked him down again.

"Get down you dog. Can't you see we're helping him?" the guard said.

The one with Jean had left the room, and Kain crawled towards the door, saying nothing. The guard left behind kicked Kain down and grabbed the door.

"He's being helped, be glad he's not in the hands of state alchemists, for they would just do away with someone so weak." He said to Kain.

"Shut up!" shouted Kain.

His protests were cut off with the slamming of the door, and so he was left alone. Kain remained upon the floor until more guards returned to take him off for interrogation. Without resisting he was taken down the hall to the same interrogation room with the same routine answering the same questions. But in Kain's heart something was different, hatred was blossoming and growing, without Jean, Kain was positive it would flourish. The door to the interrogation room closed, and the questioning began.


	8. Chapter 8

"You're in luck." a guard informed Kain Fuery from the doorway in a jovial tone.

Mr. Fuery certainly did not feel so, and said nothing to the man in return. The guard seemed undeterred by Mr. Fuery's silence. It rarely did, for he was quite dense, or at least this is what Mr. Fuery had come to believe. This same unnamed guard had been monitoring and escorting Mr. Fuery throughout his internment.

"It's moving day for you." said the guard to Mr. Fuery.

So that's what it was. It was clear something was different when the two guards that normally appeared for feeding were down to one without any food. Resilient as ever, Mr. Fuery gave no sign that he heard the guard. His mind was running, but his body was struggling after poor nutrition, sustained beatings, and lack of exercise for such a prolonged period of time. The simple task of telling this guard to "fuck off" felt like too much of an exertion. It came as no surprise that he required such low security to be moved. Resignedly, Mr. Fuery acquainted himself with the notion that he was most likely being escorted off to his execution. His use had dried up, and it was time for him to go no doubt.

"Up we go," said the guard, plucking Mr. Fuery from his curled up position on the bed, dragging the thin sheets with him.

Small, irrelevant, and withered, Mr. Fuery proved to be no difficult task when moved from the bed to the waiting wicker wheelchair. It was surprisingly kind that he was not dragged. He was reminded of the manner in which Jean Havoc was disposed. They had executed him in such a humiliating fashion undeserved by any soldier, starvation. Resting in the chair, head propped up with a wooden headrest, Mr. Fuery found it surprisingly comfy.

"And the horses off." muttered the guard.

Wheeled down the halls that seemed to repeat themselves, they passed the rooms where Mr. Fuery had endured countless horrors at the spindly hands of Lust. The familiar muffled cries of his comrades seemed miles away. He and the guard navigated the halls patrolled by soldiers of the new army, men Mr. Fuery despised. With curt nods they greeted the pair, showing slight smiles despite their hideous actions against the interned. Some wore wedding rings, and Mr. Fuery wondered if their spouses knew they had married monsters. Reaching the end of a particularly long corridor, they came to a stop at an elevator lift.

The guard pressed an ivory button with "4" embossed on it in black. In the time they waited Mr. Fuery attempted to recount the way they came and the layout of the building for when he escaped. This place would burn he decided. He would take immense pleasure in kicking the cinders of this place. Roy Mustang, former colonel and Flame Alchemist, would light it up for him. It was the least he could do. The double doors to the lift opened, and the guard wheeled him in. An industrial sized, brightly lit platform held them nicely as it was empty. Up they went with a laborious pace; no stops were made along the way.

At last the doors opened at floor four were opened. Revealed was not a firing squad or chair brimming with electric potential, but a hospital ward. Unlike before, there were windows. Opaque and barred windows, but still windows where natural light was allowed in with the artificial that had marked Mr. Fuery's stay. The guard wheeled Mr. Fuery down the hall teeming with doctors and nurses. When no one looked to him with alarm in his state of health, they immediately drew suspicion from Mr. Fuery. At last he was wheeled into a room where a doctor was waiting. The guard stopped Mr. Fuery's wheelchair by a cot with flannel sheets.

"You may go now." instructed the doctor to the guard.

Nodding, the guard left Mr. Fuery's room. Undoubtedly, he was returning to the lower levels of this inconceivable building. Manila folder in hand, the doctor took a chair from the single desk in the room and sat across from Mr. Fuery.

"Kain Fuery is it?" he asked. "May I call you Kain?"

No answer was given, but just like the guard, the doctor remained unperturbed.

"My name is Doctor M. Vandertramp, and don't ask me what the "M" stands for, it's a family name." he said to Mr. Fuery lightheartedly.

"Would you like some water Kain?"

In spite of himself, Mr. Fuery forced a nod. The doctor called a nurse and gave her instruction. She walked off, her heels clacking softly against the tile floor. There were no windows in the tight room, the one Mr. Fuery was to stay it seemed.

"As I've said Kain," Dr. Vandertramp continued, "I am a doctor, your doctor specifically. I will both be in charge of your procedure and mental recovery."

Mr. Fuery's ears perked up at the word "procedure" thinking his wounds from Lust may finally go treated. The nurse returned then, not only with a glass of tantalizing water, but half a loaf of fresh looking bread and a steaming bowl of broth. The tray was set across his wheelchair's arm rests and with weak hands Mr. Fuery was able to consume it slowly. Dr. Vandertramp watched him silently, and then carried on with his talk.

"Kain tonight is the night of your procedure, and most likely your only procedure. I need you to understand what is to happen." Through his food Mr. Fuery picked up on the grave tone of Dr. Vandertramp.

"I treated your friend, Jean Havoc; I believe he served in the military with you."

Mr. Fuery stopped eating.

"What I do is unlike any doctor in the world, my tools are my hands and my medium is alchemy. I specialize in the alchemy of the brain. What I do is a necessary evil, one that will not only save Amestris and its citizens, but people who threaten it like you and Jean Havoc."

"What did you do?" demanded Mr. Fuery, finally speaking, "Where is my friend?"

"Dead." answered Dr. Vandertramp.

Mr. Fuery attempted to raise himself, the tray of soup and bread falling to the floor as he did so. Dr. Vandertramp stood with him, shoving him back into his wheelchair, which caused it to roll back slightly.

"God damn it," swore Mr. Fuery, "What did you do to him?"

"I only tried to save him." answered Dr. Vandertramp with a ferocity that one would not expect from him. "He was too weak for the procedure. We learned many things from him and others who have undergone it. Do not worry; your procedure will be a success."

"Oh, I'm not worried. I horrified that a man like you can call yourself a doctor." spat Mr. Fuery. "You're a murderer, just like those guards and that creature!"

"Were you in theater before you enlisted Kain? You're quite dramatic." said Dr. Vandertramp.

Remaining standing, Dr. Vandertramp looked very menacing with his round gait and long lab coat. Behind his glasses Mr. Fuery's eyes reflected the intensity of his dislike for the man. Exhaling heavily, Dr. Vandertramp took his seat once more as if Kain Fuery to him was only a tiresome child, not a patient and prisoner.

"Jean Havoc was in bad shape and a smoker; these things had a great impact on his outcome. Aside from your vision you're in perfect health. I will perform the procedure on you, assist in your rehabilitation, and you will be free to go."

"Perfect health?" demanded Mr. Fuery incredulously, "I've been starved, beaten, and stabbed. What kind of procedure is this?"

"Alchemy, of course," Dr. Vandertramp answered. "I am going to help your mind come to a more civilized way of thinking."

"What does that even mean?"

"Simple. Stimulating areas around your brain, especially the frontal lobe, I will help motivate a greater good in you. I can make you see the errors of your philosophy of anarchy and love of alchemy."

"Brainwashing?" asked Mr. Fuery, failing to hide his panic.

"Again with the drama, but I suppose in a sense you are right."

Dr. Vandertramp tapped the floor with his foot. He had carried out many arguments such as these, and he found the best solution was presented in results. He rose again, smoothing the wrinkles from his lab coat. To Dr. Vandertramp, Mr. Fuery looked to him he saw a man with many mental problems that would easily be fixed. One day, Dr. Vandertramp thought, Mr. Fuery would realize the service done to him and apologize, but for now it was time to leave. Saying his goodbyes, he left the room and locked the door behind him. There was no risking this one; this would be his chance to show the leaders of the new Amestris what he could do.

Exiting the midafternoon train from the western capital to Central city was the future of Kain Fuery and Dr. Vandertramp as well as the whole nation in the form of a man called Governor Reginald Petty. He was in first class with his aid, a Miss Sarah Brown.

Governor Reginald Petty was only a boy during the war in Ishval took place. It would shape him and haunt him for the rest of his life. His father had been a soldier of low rank and like so many others in the war had been killed. Engulfed in an alchemic blaze, he had succumbed to the fires of the Flame Alchemist. By all accounts his father's death was an accident, one of the many inevitabilities of war, but in his death the seeds of hate were sewn for young Reginald.

"The Voice of the People, I presume?" asked an officer beside a car.

"The very same." answered Ms. Brown.

"I've been instructed to take you to tonight's event, please, let me take your bags." said the officer.

"Event?" asked Governor Petty, "I was told this was only to be a meeting with the Prime Minister."

"The Prime Minister will be in attendance, I'm sure," the officer assured, "but you must forgive me. I am not privy to the specifics of your business. I was only told that there would be an event tonight."

"I see." answered Governor Petty.

Though he did not see, and could not help but to feel unease and suspicion at the idea of an "event", the officer did not seem to be lying. Collecting their bags, the officer then ushered them into the car, closing the doors softly. Governor Petty was treated with high regard by the officer, but whenever he raised the topic of his purpose in Central, answers were always vague.

"Where are we going?" Governor Petty demanded, unfamiliar with the streets of Central.

"You'll know when we arrive." answered the officer.

Coming upon Central City Court House, Governor Petty's frustration and confusion grew.

"What could possibly demand my attentions here all the way from the west?" he demanded, the strains of his long travel taking its toll.

"I do not know sir, I just know this is where I have been instructed to take you." said the officer, uneasy.

Governor Petty was silent, examining the situation. Ms. Brown stood at his side, waiting for him to make a decision. Wordlessly, Governor Petty conceded control to the officer, who left their bags in the car as he led them up the front steps of the prison. Inside, to the surprise of Governor Petty stood the Prime Minister himself, accompanied by his own aid and men the governor knew to be his advisors and some of the top generals. A man in a lab coat stood amongst them, seeming much like an equal. Governor Petty was sure to remember to find out who he was.

"Welcome, welcome Reginald." said the Prime Minister.

By using his first name, the Prime Minister seemed almost personable, a trait he was not known for privately. Though he was put in power by the people and for the people, he was anything but a people person.

"Sir!" answered Governor Petty.

"Please," said the Prime Minister, raising his hands, "we're not in the military and I am no general. Now, let's get down to business, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, your friend too."

The man in the lab coat came forward, the man, or doctor more likely, did not exactly exude professionalism. He looked to be like the typical doctor, but was twice as ragged and young. It was his eyes though, his eyes that gave away his true nature. Through his wire-rimmed glasses, he could have been a thousand years old. He was the type of man who believed himself capable of anything, a man with a god complex. Governor Petty decided he did not like him, for men see themselves as gods have no room for anything but people to give orders to.

"This is Dr. Vandertramp, and I hope that after tonight you two will become partners."

"In what?" asked Governor Petty.

"The lobby is no place for business deals, and I think you'll come to understand just what we have in mind for you when you see what he does in action." answered the Prime Minister.

Dr. Vandertramp took the lead, and was followed closely by the Prime Minister and Governor Petty. The generals followed, but took on a subsidiary role. Ms. Brown and the aid of the Prime Minister were left to wait in the lobby of the prison. The group of men entered a lift, only to discover the building had at over twenty lower levels. Pressing button for the lower level four, the group descended. Kain Fuery, strapped to an operating table, found the crowd observing him unnerving. He wished he was sedated, no, he wished to be home again, far away from all of this. The straps that held him in place served merely as an insult; there was no way he could run off in his condition. Dr. Vandertramp stepped forward, speaking to the audience as if there were more than eight men present.

"Gentlemen, I present to you an enemy of the state, a known radical with ties to alchemy. He is here today to prove that men like him, fierce loyalists to a cause bent on destruction, can be reformed." Dr. Vandertramp waved his arm behind him, gesturing to the sparseness of the room.

"Now you may notice a lack of tools here, but this is what makes my services so revolutionary. My tools are my hands, and my work is alchemy."

Noises of disapproval came from the men, aside from the Prime Minister, the group was stunned. It was Governor Petty who felt the most acute disapproval and even outrage.

"Alchemy?" he said, rising from his seat. "That's a crime against humanity!"

"But when used to combat alchemy, we are fighting fire with fire. It is an innovation man is known for. You can't make an omelet without cracking some eggs." quickly replied Dr. Vandertramp.

Governor Petty digested the words of the doctor, and despite his misgivings, he took a seat to hear out the doctor.

"This is why I have summoned you." said the Prime Minister to Governor Petty. "I leave it to you to ensure this does not get out of hand. Once the terrorists are silenced, so will this operation. I would not have brought you here had the man I had originally intended for the position die in that explosion at the ball."

"Perhaps my work shall speak for itself." interrupted Dr. Vandertramp.

The attention was drawn back to the table, Kain Fuery, who neither struggled nor spoke. With confidence strode up to the table beside Mr. Fuery's head. An insignia had been etched into the metal table underneath him, everything was in place. Raising his hands slowly either out of trepidation or excitement, Dr. Vandertramp's hands began to glow. To fight alchemy with alchemy, Governor Petty felt he must be making a deal with the Devil, but he could not combat his elation at the prospect. The insignia glimmered bright yellow like Dr. Vandertramp's hands then ceased within a minute.

"The procedure is done, how do you feel Mr. Fuery?" asked Dr. Vandertramp.


End file.
